


bury this burden (before it buries me)

by probablyfakenews



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Social Media, eventually, not gonna lie this ones gonna be sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablyfakenews/pseuds/probablyfakenews
Summary: "You were his pride and joy, Peter. Of course he would risk it all for you."Or, Peter suddenly finds the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it’s all Tony’s fault.





	1. sky on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all aboard the angst train next stop angst choo choo

Tony Stark's final Instagram post came on an uneventful Thursday afternoon.

It featured two photos. In the first, Pepper Stark leaned against an exterior balcony, framed by the Manhattan skyline. She wore a crisp white skirt and blazer, and her hair was pinned back in an immaculate bun. Four teenagers were clustered around her like professionally-dressed ducklings. Pepper was lightly touching the arm of the girl to her left, a dark-skinned girl with curly hair that spilled across her shoulders. The next boy in line was grinning at something the girl had said, pink dusting his cheeks. The other two teens chatted casually, clearly comfortable in each other's presence.

 The second photo was more chaotic. Tony Stark sat at a lab table. The camera was angled so that you could see both his exasperated face and the robot parts that were strewn in front of him. Four teenagers stood behind him, different than the teens in the previous photo, save for one boy who appeared in both. There were two boys with short brown hair, although one had grease smeared down the length of his face. They stood to Tony's right, each with a hand on the same wrench as they bickered with each other. A Hawaiian boy crouched to Tony's left, gaping at the smoke that was rising from their half-built creation. The final teen, a girl with short blonde hair, reached for the fire extinguisher. They were all dressed in safety glasses and gray jumpsuits with the SI logo on the front pocket.  Tony's eyes were closed as he massaged his temples.  

The photos were grouped together with the caption " _Of course Pepper gets the nice interns_."

 Tony expanded on his caption further down. " _In all seriousness, I am honored to announce that the interns in our Infinity program will be launching their first official projects tomorrow during our press conference. I am proud of each and every one of these brilliant young minds and look forward to all they will accomplish. Special thanks go to @pbparker who was the driving force in getting this program up and running. Good job, kid_."

 "Oh my god. Tony Stark tagged me on Instagram. What is my life now?" Ned let his phone slip through his grip, but Peter caught it before it could hit the desk. "An Avenger posted about me. That's it. I've peaked."

 "I can't believe he used the picture where Harley smeared grease on my face!" Peter scrolled through the comments on the post. It still felt weird to be such a public figure. He had grown so used to working with Tony that he forgot how extraordinary the general public would find it.  "I look like a mess!"

 "You're always a mess." Ned dodged the friendly punch aimed for his arm. "Especially compared to MJ. Look how professional she looks in her photo. Like a miniature Miss Potts."

 "I know!" Peter groaned. "And he also used the picture where I'm blushing at her. It's like he exists solely to embarrass me."

 "There, there." Ned patted Peter's back in a way that would have been reassuring if it weren't so mocking. "You know what this means, right? You need to get revenge."

 "Revenge?"

 Ned nodded seriously. "Take an embarrassing picture of Mr. Stark and post it online. "

 "What? No way. No, " Peter shook his head, but he couldn't help but grin. Ideas were already spinning in his mind. "He'd kill me. I'd die."

 "You and I both know that you're the only person who could get away with it."

 Peter started to respond, but his attention was drawn to the row in front of him. Flash was watching a video on his laptop. It looked like an Avengers fight, but Peter didn't recognize the battle. He leaned forward in his seat, entranced as he watched Natasha on-screen wrap her thighs around an alien's head and slam it into the ground. She had been trying to teach him that move, but Peter couldn't get the hang of it. He was always ended up just as disoriented as his opponent.

 "Flash!" Peter whispered when their teacher wasn't paying attention. "Is that live?"

 "What's it to you, Penis?" Flash sneered."I thought Stark's prodigy would be more in the loop. Maybe you aren't as important as you think you are."

 Peter gave Flash a flat look. A year ago, Tony had offered him a legitimate job at Stark Industries. Peter had  been thrown into the public eye after a picture surfaced of him wearing a suit that cost more than his entire wardrobe as he trailed after Pepper with her clipboard and coffee in hand. It was hard to hide the fact that a teenager was the personal assistant of Pepper Stark and even harder to ignore that said teenager worked with Iron Man on confidential projects. Despite the newfound attention, Peter had remained something of cryptid, a curiosity that the public knew very little about. Regardless, Flash could no longer accuse him of lying, and it seemed to grind on the guy's nerves.

 "I just looked it up," Ned announced from his  side.  "It's happening right now, only a few blocks from here."

 Peter nodded in thanks. He dropped his notebook into his backpack and zipped it up as quietly as possible. "Cover for me."

 Ned grinned and saluted him. Peter slipped out of the classroom while his teacher's back was turned. Once he was out in the hallway, he speed-dialed Tony. The man picked up immediately. Sounds of combat drifted through the line. "Where do you need me, Mr. Stark?"

 "Kid, it's ten in the morning. Where I need you is school." Tony paused, and Peter heard the distant sounds of a repulsor blast. "We talked about this. MIT isn't gonna take someone with a shoddy attendance record, no matter how many strings I pull."

 A weight settled in Peter's gut. College had been the subject of most of their conversations these past few months. Tony was steadfast that he go to MIT, but Peter didn't want to leave New York. A deep, hidden part of him didn't want to attend college at all. He knew logically that he should, that he was good at school and could really make a difference in the world of science. But he was tired. Between school and Spider-Man and Stark Industries, he was being pulled in so many directions that he worried he'd tear apart at the seams.

 He could handle it, though. He would have to.

 "This is more important than school!" Peter insisted. "Come on, I don't even have any tests today."

 "Your education is important. Besides, we've just about got this wrapped up. These are small fries compared to what we've taken down before." There was another blast, followed by a pained shriek. Peter winced at the shrill sound.  "It's like the aliens aren't even trying anymore."

 "But I can help!"

 "I know you can." There was an edge to Tony's voice. They had done this song and dance countless times, and neither were in the mood to start a fight on the night of their important press conference. Static filtered into the line in time with the sound of an explosion. "Listen, I gotta go. Keep your ass in school, got it?"

 Peter scrubbed his shoe along the floor. He was eighteen now, a senior in high school, no longer a kid. Spider-Man had defeated Toomes, Thanos, Mysterio, and countless other superhuman threats. He had dismantled crime rings, designed high-tech gadgets, performed missions with the Avengers, and built a stable relationship with the police. He had come so far, and yet sometimes he still felt like he did in Germany, overwhelmed and out of his league.

 "Answer me, Pete."

 "Yes, Mr. Stark. I get it." He hung up before Tony could get in another word.

 Three years ago, Peter barely had the courage to call Happy, let alone hang up on The Tony Stark. But his fanboy hero worship had mellowed after The Snap and everything that followed. He still respected the man, but their relationship had become more familiar. Not quite father-and-son, but something akin to it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth if he thought about it too long. The guilt crept in, and it felt like spitting on Ben's grave to consider anyone else his father figure. He knew it was illogical. His uncle would have been pleased that he found someone to fill the gap that Ben's death had left in his life. Still, it didn't make Peter feel any better about it.

He tinkered with the web shooter beneath his sleeve. Maybe he should go help out anyway. Tony couldn't tell him what to do, not really. But he didn't want things to be tense between them during the Infinity program conference tonight. He barely entertained the thought before making his way back to the classroom.

 

  

It wasn't until two hours later that he got the text alert.

**Miss Potts** : Hello Peter

**Miss Potts:** Will you do me a favor?

 

 

"Thanks, Happy!"

 Peter climbed out of the back of the Mercedes. He gathered up the bags from the floorboards and closed the door with his hip.

 The driver side window rolled down."You don't have to thank me every time. This is literally my job." Happy gave him a stern look. "Remember, Pepper needs you back at the compound by five to set up for the press conference. Don't be late or she'll kill us both."

 Peter didn't doubt it. They had been preparing for this press conference for weeks. Pepper's interns were in charge of organizing the entire event, while Tony's had been working tirelessly on the tech they were going to reveal tonight. Since Peter was a member of both groups, he had been run ragged from calling news outlets, applying for patents, and working on the finishing touches of their project.

 "Relax, nothing short of death is gonna keep from this conference. It's my brain baby."

 "Should I pretend to know what that means?"

 "Y'know, my brain baby. My baby from my brain. Cause it's my invention." Peter cleared his throat. "Excuse me, _our_ invention. If I take all the credit then Harley, Ned, and Gwen will kill me. But it was totally my idea." 

 Happy rolled up his window without saying another word. Peter waved cheerily as he drove away. He stepped past the police barricade. An officer moved to stop him, but she smiled when she saw who he was. "Well, if it isn't the Avengers' errand boy," she said, not unkindly.

 "I'll have you know I'm more than just their errand boy, Captain," Peter told her seriously. He held up the takeout bags from Delmar's that were balanced precariously on his arms. "I'm also Miss Potts' errand boy, and she is much more important in my opinion. And not just because she sent sandwiches. You want one? I have plenty."

 The police captain laughed. "No, thanks. Ask some of the boys. We've been at the site since early this morning, so I bet they're starving."

 Peter whistled. "I don't envy you," he lied. He totally would have been here earlier if Mr. Stark let him. "Was there a lot of damage?"

 "There's always damage when the Avengers are involved. I'm just glad that they help clean up their messes now, ever since the Accords." The Captain glanced over to the pedestrians lining the police barricade. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but we both know you'll find out anyway. What we're really worried about is some of the tech that our extraterrestrial friends left behind."

 "Their tech? Why, is it dangerous?"

 "Incredibly. Especially because when it is put under too much stress, it has the potential to explode."

 A sour taste settled on Peter's tongue. At least he had his spidey sense to rely on, should anything go wrong. "Oh, shit."

 "'Oh, shit' is right. We had a couple of small explosions already this morning when we were clearing debris. The shifting weight probably set them off, but they've been manageable so far. No injuries." She jerked her head toward the scene. "Just drop off the food and get out, kid. I don't want you to get hurt."

 "Can do, Captain." He saluted her the best he could with bags in his arms. "You guys be careful, too."

 Peter handed a bag of sandwiches to one of the other police officers before jogging over to where the Avengers were gathered. Steve and Tony were lifting a large cement slab onto the back of a truck. Natasha was talking to the driver, pointing as if she were giving him directions. Clint was the first to notice him. 

 "Have I ever told you I love you, Pete?" Clint reached for the bags before Peter swatted him away. "Bless you, and bless your sandwiches." 

 "Bless Mr. Stark's bank account since he's the one paying. You want the usual?" 

 "You know it." 

 Peter dropped the remaining bags onto the asphalt. He found his own sandwich before letting Clint rummage through it. Number five with pickles, smushed down real flat. It was the best sandwich in the city, and he would personally fist fight anyone who said otherwise. He was already several bites in before he heard the voice of the one person he came here to see. 

 "I thought I told you to stay home." Tony crossed his arms. His nano tech suit had collapsed back in on itself, revealing a gaudy red tracksuit  that was probably as expensive as it was ugly. He was giving Peter a you're-in-trouble look.

 Peter met his gaze, unimpressed. "Miss Potts sent me, and I respect her authority over yours."

 Tony laughed. "That's fair. But you know its Mrs. Stark now, right?"

 "She'll always be Miss Potts to me." Peter made a show of checking his watch.  "Anyway, I'm about to head back. Don't want to be late for the press conference."

 Tony blinked in surprise. "That's awfully responsible of you," he said slowly, clearly skeptical. 

 "I can't believe you have such little faith in me," Peter splayed his hand out on his chest, mock offended.  "I'm always responsible, Mr. Stark. Responsible is my middle name.  Peter Responsible Not-Late-for-Anything-Ever Parker. "

 "Mm-hmm."

 Peter waited until he was out of their sight before he dipped past the barricade and into an empty alley. His spider sense was quiet. Good. No one was watching him. He stripped out of his jeans and hoodie to expose the Spider-Man suit underneath. He folded his clothes and laid them on the floor of the alley, setting his half-eaten sandwich on top of the pile. He'd have to come back for it later. He donned the mask and web-zipped up to the top of the building above him. 

 He hopped from roof to roof, careful to keep out of sight. When he found the building above where the Avengers were still gathered, Peter began to creep down the wall.  He held his breath. Even the slightest noise could alert the target to his presence, and that would not work out well for him. Tony sat on the sidewalk beneath him, his back against the building as he unwrapped a sandwich. He was still wearing his casual clothes, but Peter knew that his nano-tech suit could be activated in seconds if needed. He'd have to be quick if he wanted to get the drop on the man. Ned would be so disappointed in him if he failed.

 There was a soft chuckle near the barricade. Peter looked up. A group of teenagers were filming him on their phones. He waved at them to draw their attention, pointed down to Tony, and held a finger to his lips. He hadn't factored pedestrians into this. They nodded, and one of them made a zipper motion against her mouth. She held up her phone more discreetly than before. Peter could always count on New Yorkers.

 He waited for the perfect moment before leaning over Tony and taking a selfie. In the photo, Spider-Man's masked face was upside-down, his suit eyes squinted as he smiled and threw a peace sign. Tony was right-side up, eyes wide in shock and mouth open as he took a large bite of his sandwich. Mustard smeared his cheek. In his surprise, he dropped the sandwich, and it splattered against the sidewalk like a piece of abstract art.

 "You'd think a billionaire would know how to look classy while eating, but I guess not." Peter grinned beneath the mask.  "This is definitely going on my Instagram."

 He was halfway done typing his caption - _hanging with my good pal tony stank_  - when Tony lunged for the phone. Peter jumped off the side of the building, laughing. He backflipped over Tony's head and ran toward the other Avengers. Surely Captain America could protect him from Tony's wrath. Tony ran after him, keeping pace only because Peter was letting him. 

 "Delete that!" Tony yelled, but Peter could hear the humor in his tone. 

 "Too late! I already posted it!" Peter held his phone up triumphantly.  "Pepper said that its good PR to let fans see your human side!"

 "I don't think she meant it quite like this!"

 Peter opened his mouth to respond, but something was wrong. His foot slammed down on a manhole cover as he ran, and he heard a sound like shattered glass and a long, quiet hiss.  A shiver worked its way up his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His spider sense was screaming. It stabbed through his head more strongly than it ever had before.

 His body moved before his mind could properly register the danger. He shoved Tony out of the way with enough force to bruise, desperate to get his mentor as far away as possible. Tony’s eyes widened as he fell back. The nano-tech suit began to form around his chest, and Peter could only hope that it would be fast enough to protect him. Tony shouted something, but Peter couldn't make out what he said. He was immediately deafened by the blast that followed. It was an all encompassing boom that left his ears ringing. Heat seared his back and he was thrown forward. He blacked out before he hit the ground.

 But no, that wasn’t quite right. His vision had faded to black but he was still awake, still aware. Oh God, had the explosion blinded him? He hit the asphalt in a heap, feeling much heavier than normal. The impact barely jarred his bones.

 Lights blinked to existence in front of his eyes. They looked startlingly familiar to Tony’s Iron Man interface. He didn’t have time to consider what that meant before his vision returned like a computer screen booting up. Smoking debris littered the street. Peter pushed himself up onto his knees, wincing as the sunlight reflected off the bright metal encasing his arms.

 He froze. It was like his brain had short-circuited, refusing to complete the puzzle even though all the pieces were laid out in front of him. He patted his arms and chest, and his heart dropped at the resulting metal-on-metal clank. 

 He was wearing the Iron Man suit. 

 But if he was wearing the suit, then where was Tony? 

 The ringing in his ears built in a crescendo. Peter staggered to his feet. FRIDAY highlighted a heat signature on the interface, a singular form lying beneath the rubble a few yards ahead of him. He could sense activity around him, but his vision had tunneled. He only cared about finding Tony. The man was fine. He had to be. Peter needed to put the dread that had started to pool in his heart to rest. But as he got close enough to see the figure in detail, to make out the dark hair and the tattered red track suit, no amount of optimism could deny that his mentor was collapsed under the rubble, burnt and bloodied. Tony's normally sharp eyes stared up at the sky, cold and glassy and dead. 

 Peter screamed. He wasn't sure what he was saying, or if he was even saying anything comprehensible at all. It didn't matter. He couldn't breathe. He needed out. He needed out of _this damn suit_ \--

 The nano-tech faded away. Strong hands gripped Peter's shoulders before he could topple forward. Steve was saying something to him, was pushing him back, away from what used to be Tony Stark. The ringing was unbearable now. Disorienting. Something warm trickled down Peter's face and neck, but he didn't feel any pain. He didn't feel anything at all. The ground rushed up to meet him and he could remember no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah im sorry about that  
> feel free to yell at me in the comments! criticism is welcome


	2. these bones never rested while living

Peter woke to blinding light.

His heart picked up. Another explosion? He briefly wondered who he would lose this time. But, no. This light was white. Cold. So unlike the scorching fire from before. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

His face felt strange. Like it was wrapped in some kind of fabric. His mask? No, not that. Bandages.

There were voices. Soft. Distant. He couldn't place who they belonged to. Couldn't catch a word they said. He floated along in a haze of drugs and sleep. He may have drifted off again. He wasn't sure. 

Someone was holding his hand. May? 

"Peter, sweetie." Fingers ran through his hair. "Are you awake?"

Peter tried to speak, but all that came out was a pained rasp. He swallowed and tried again. "No?"

May laughed. She sounded surprised. "Not awake, huh?"

"Don't wanna be." It was silent for a beat. The quiet was almost peaceful before he opened his mouth and ruined it. "Tell me that was a dream. A nightmare. Tell me it didn't really happen."

May squeezed his hand. "I think you already know the answer to that."

The drugs kicked in full force, and Peter welcomed the blackness that followed.

 

It was dark the next time he woke. Quiet. He cracked his eyes and found the room to be empty. His throat was so dry that it burned, but when he reached over to the night stand for a glass of water, all he found was his phone. 

He hesitated. Questions swam in his head, but he wasn't sure he wanted them answered. 

Peter steeled his resolve and pulled up YouTube. 

It began with a news broadcast. Massive property damage. Nearly a dozen injured. One death. It cut to a clip filmed at the scene.The video was shaky, obviously filmed from a phone camera. Peter was almost thankful for the poor quality. The fewer details he had to relive, the better. When Spider-Man on the screen shoved Tony back, Peter closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch it. But he needed to know what the man had said.

"FRIDAY," Tony shouted, in charge of the situation even during an uncontrolled fall. "Activate First Priority Protocol! Protect him!"

Peter shut off his phone and let it fall to the bed. He pulled his knees into his chest and curled in on himself. Smoke still lingered on his skin, even though he had scrubbed until he was raw. He should be dead, and yet he wasn't. Tony should be alive, and yet he wasn’t. Peter couldn't wrap his head around it.

“FRIDAY?” Peter asked into the quiet of the room. He didn’t recognize his own voice. Did he really sound so small?

“Yes, Peter?” 

“What is...” He swallowed, but his hesitation remained. “What is First Priority Protocol?”

FRIDAY paused. Only for a moment, a half-beat. Was she grieving, just as Peter was? Or did he imagine her faltering? 

“First Priority Protocol was implemented last year, around the time you became an employee at Stark Industries," FRIDAY explained slowly. "It was designed so that if you were ever in life-threatening danger, I was to take whatever action necessary to protect you. Even at the cost of Mr. Stark’s life.”

"But why? Why me?"

"You were his pride and joy, Peter. Of course he would risk it all for you."

Peter didn't respond. He didn't know how to. Friday continued without prompting. "The details of Mr. Stark's will are going to be revealed in the next few days, but I feel that you should be informed of your status before it becomes public knowledge." 

"My status?"

"Should anything befall Mrs. Stark, Mr. Stark has named you heir to Stark Industries."

  

Peter couldn't sleep.

Tony's last words played on loop in his mind, paired with the light that still seared the backs of his lids when he closed his eyes. The memory of the armor made his chest constrict. He counted the ceiling tiles, then counted them again, and again, until his breathing righted itself. It was on his fifth run-though of counting that Peter dragged himself out of bed and stumbled out of his room.

The drugs had worn off. Peter took stock of his injuries. His face and neck burned. His back ached as he walked, screaming when he stretched the skin the wrong way. His legs didn't want to obey him, but he pushed onward. He needed to do something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts. Because in the silence of the room, without May's soothing presence, a single realization formed in Peter's mind. It started as a whisper, but built until it screamed in his skull. 

He killed Tony Stark. 

He shouldn't have been running around an area he knew was dangerous. He shouldn't have even been there at all, if he had just listened to Tony. He felt like he had after the Ferry, but so, so much worse. Because this time, Tony wasn't there to scold him. 

"You shouldn't be up yet."

Peter hadn't realized Happy had joined him in the hall until he felt a strong hand rest on his shoulder. Peter lifted his head and met Happy's eyes. God, had Happy always looked that old?  

"Kid?" Happy shook his shoulder gently, just enough to startle Peter back into the present. How long had they been standing in silence? Time slipped through Peter's consciousness like water through his fingers. 

"Please," Peter begged, although he wasn't sure what it was that he wanted. He shrugged the hand from his shoulder and kept walking. Happy didn't try to stop him. 

Peter spotted a familiar figure on the other side of the living room. Pepper leaned against the glass, her back to him. She was still wearing her skirt and button-up from earlier that day, but her hair fell in messy tendrils down her back. Peter joined her at the window, one painful step at a time. 

"They turned my yard into a shrine," she said, never turning away from the window. A cruel laugh escaped her lips. "As if I wasn't reminded enough of what happened. As if I can't get the image of him burning out of my head. No, they had to go and turn my yard into a goddamn shrine."

Peter followed her gaze. A massive crowd had gathered at the base of the tower, several stories below. It stretched on for as far as Peter could see. A soft, golden glow illuminated the courtyard from the candles that lined the sidewalk. The ground was buried beneath flowers, photos, and memorabilia. Peter felt a jolt in his chest. This was real. Tony actually died. But as painful as it was to acknowledge, there was something heartwarming about the gathered mourners. They were a tribute to the legacy Tony had built, to the good he had dedicated his life to.

He didn't think his words through before he spoke, caught up in the moment. "You should go out there," he said.

Pepper was still for a long time. Peter thought she hadn't heard him, and for that he thankful. Surely that was too much to ask of her. But as Peter turned to go, she grabbed his arm.

"Only if you go with me," she said, quiet, but her eyes were steady as steel. 

Peter nodded. He wanted to smile but couldn't bring himself to. His face felt heavy, worn. He offered her his arm, and she took it, and together they made their way to the elevator. 

Where most elevators would have played soft classical music, AC/DC blared through the speakers. 

"FRIDAY told me. About the will." Peter stared at his feet. Bare, except for his socks. Maybe he should have grabbed shoes for this. "I just...I can't. I'm not ready for that."

Pepper squeezed his hand. "You don't have to worry. I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon."

She lead the way across the lobby and out the front doors. The crowd parted as they approached, allowing Pepper a clear path to the shrine. She trailed her hand along the flowers, photographs, and action figures, regarding each one as if it were something foreign. Peter followed a few steps behind her. The asphalt was damp beneath his feet. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. He didn't belong here, in this sacred space. He felt very much like a murderer attending his victim's funeral. 

The shrine was centered around a single photo, much larger than the rest. It would have been a feat to carry it all the way here. In the picture, Tony was wearing the Iron Man armor, but his helmet was off, revealing a blinding smile as laughed at something. Blood and dirt were caked on his face, but he was still radiant, even more lively because of the grit. Peter averted his gaze. The last time he had seen Tony smile like that at the clean-up site, moments before disaster.

Pepper fell to her knees in front of the photo. The crowd was struck silent, sharing in her moment of grief. But their despair was dilute compared to hers, a puddle before a raging storm. Her shoulders shook, her chest heaved, but she made no sound. For a moment, Peter was frozen in place. His vision blurred at the edges, and the world became silent except for the thrumming of his heart in his ears. It felt like he was burning all over again. 

His senses came back to him gradually, and then all at once, shocking him into action. A camera flashed in his face as he passed, but he ignored it. He crouched beside Pepper and held her while she sobbed. He offered no condolences, no reassurances, because he couldn't look her in the eye and tell her everything was going to be okay. 

Tony was dead and things would never be okay again.

 

The news broke a day later. Photos of Peter and Pepper from the shrine went viral, paired with headlines about the future of Stark Industries. Many articles suggested that Pepper, overcome with grief, was unfit to lead. They seemed to think that Peter would replace her within the next few months. Obviously, they didn't know Pepper as well as Peter did. Others were skeptical of him. He was too young, they claimed. He was not even a Stark. What right did he have to the largest technology empire in the nation? 

Regardless of their opinions, everyone seemed to want to speak with him. Reporters clamored in the lobby of the Tower, but Peter stayed holed up in the medbay. He barely spoke with anyone, not even Ned and May. He knew that he was scaring them, but a fog had settled over him that he couldn't break through.

Spider-Man hadn't escaped the limelight, either. His most recent Instagram post held the last photo in which Tony Stark appeared in alive. People flocked to this photo. Peter wasn't sure why. He supposed it was a much more pleasant alternative than the clip that had played over and over on the news that grim afternoon. Ned eventually disabled the comments on the post after he caught Peter scrolling through them with a deadened stare. Most offered condolences or heartfelt comments about the man Tony was, but there was also a fair amount of hate mail, scalding messages that blamed Spider-Man (accurately, in Peter’s opinion) for the man’s death.

Both of his lives had been irreparably changed. Where was he supposed to go from here?

 

The funeral was not a quiet affair. 

Peter sat in the front row. He could feel the gathered mourners behind him as they squirmed in their seats, could hear each and every whispered conversation in uncomfortable detail. May sat close by his side. She kept one arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders and glared at any reporters that tried to get his attention. What did Peter ever do to deserve her?

The cathedral was packed to the brim. So was the street outside. People lined the sidewalks for blocks, desperate to say farewell to Earth's defender. Countless more streamed the service online. 

The service passed by in a blur. Hymns were sung. Eulogies were given. Peter didn't give a speech, couldn't bring himself to if he wanted. What was there to say when your world fell apart? 

He was brought back to the present when Rhodey tapped on his shoulder. "It's time," the man said. He got to his feet. Peter did the same. His hand lingered in May's for a moment before he followed Rhodey out of the cathedral.

 

Peter stared at his reflection in the mirror of the church bathroom. His Spider-Man suit had been mostly repaired, although he could see the thick, jagged seams in the places where the damage had been the most extensive. The new fabric that had been used to patch the suit up was half a shade of red different from the original, but no one else seemed to have noticed but him. The sight of it gave him phantom pains on his face, but he knew it was all in his head. The burns had mostly healed by now. The scarring had yet to fade way entirely, highlighting his jaw with grizzly red marks. 

He ran his thumb along the fabric of his mask. May had done a good job sewing up the tears, but there was no fixing the smell of smoke that lingered no matter how many times she had washed it. He slid the mask on and found that he couldn't breathe. Ash filled his nose and mouth. Fire flashed in his eyes. He pulled the mask off and tossed it into the sink. 

This wasn't a job for Spider-Man, anyway. 

Peter joined the others in the hall. Steve was dressed in his traditional blue, with his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. Thor wore his Asgardian armor. Rhodey leaned against the wall in full War Machine regalia except for the helmet. His eyes were distant, and Peter couldn't help but wonder if the man blamed him for what happened. This was a hero's funeral, and Pepper felt it was only right for them to send Tony off in uniform, if only to remind the world what the man had stood for. Peter felt very out of place, a wannabe among legends. 

"Kid, aren't you forgetting something?" Peter startled and turned around. Happy stood behind him in a well-fitting black suit. He gestured to Peter's face.

Peter shook his head. "I don't need it."

All five men turned to look at him. Peter trained his gaze on the floor, feeling more childish than ever under their scrutiny. Bruce gripped Peter's shoulder lightly, eyes laced with concern. His suit was almost identical to Happy's. "If you walk out there without your mask, there's no going back. Spider-Man will be forever tied to Peter Parker. Do you understand?"

"I can't say goodbye to Mr. Stark with that mask on. "

He couldn't quite put the feeling into words, but there was something disrespectful about burying Tony as Spider-Man, since it was Spider-Man who had gotten him killed. The thought of putting on his mask right now made him nauseous. The explanation seemed to satisfy the others, but as they walked toward the doors to the atrium, Happy lingered at Peter's side. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. Peter could barely speak past the lump lodged in his throat. He nodded, but it felt like a lie. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

"I've got to do this as me," he said. "As all of me. Besides, it's not like a normal life is an option for me anymore."

Happy patted him on the back, but Peter could tell the man disapproved of his decision. Steve signaled to the suited men posted at the doors, most likely SI employees. If they were surprised by Peter’s age they didn’t show it. Steve nodded at the other pallbearers. "Alright, team. Let's go."

The men held the doors open for them. The pallbearers walked in rows of two, in perfect step even though they had never practiced before. It was as if they were all existing in the same rhythm: a quiet, unsteady beat that had persisted ever since Tony's death. Steve and Thor took the lead, and Peter couldn't help but be comforted by their broad forms and sure steps. The shine of their uniforms seemed to cut through the gloom of the day.  Bruce and Happy followed a few steps behind, stoic and grounding.

The crowd was beginning to murmur. The noise, although respectfully subdued, reminded Peter what was at stake. The whole world was watching. He hesitated in the doorway, feet frozen in place.

Rhodey turned back to look at him. "He'd be proud of you, you know that?" he said softly. "He was always proud of you, even in the end. You can do this."

Peter breathed in deep and started walking. Their exchange had only taken a few seconds, not long enough to draw attention. Regardless, the crowd's murmurs turned to full-out chatter as he and Rhodey made their way past the pews. Peter tried to tune them out. He focused on his steps. Left. Right. Left. Right. But voices still seeped through. 

"That's not really him, is it?"

"It has to be. Look at the burns on his face."

Left. Right. 

"God, how old is he?"

Left. 

"That's fucked up, man. Isn't that the same kid that inherited Stark Industries?"

Right.

"What, are we sending children to fight our wars for us now?"

Left. 

He didn't realize he had reached the front of the cathedral until Pepper wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered into his hair. Peter couldn't find his words, but he hugged her back fiercely. 

He found his place at the right side of the coffin, closest to where Tony's head would be. Rhodey joined him on the left side, and the other pallbearers filed in behind them. They lifted the coffin to shoulder height. Peter tried to distance the man in the coffin from the man he knew, because if thought to hard about the fact that he was carrying Tony's body to his grave he was going to lose his shit. 

He was facing the crowd now, leading the procession of pallbearers instead of following from the back. The cathedral was no longer a scene of remembrance and mourning. People were gawking, muttering to each other, filming with their cameras. He couldn’t help but think it was all directed at him, at his bare face. He let his vision unfocus as they carried the coffin out of the cathedral. He didn’t want to be present for this. He didn’t want to be present for anything.

In that moment, he was envious of Tony. It was so much easier to be the one who leaves than to be the one who is left behind. How many times had Peter been left behind? His parents, Uncle Ben, and now Tony. He was tired of having to keep going when everyone he loved left him.

It was worse outside. People flooded the streets. They seemed to feel less of an obligation to be reserved than those in the cathedral, and several people actually shouted when they saw him.  Peter felt an urge to cover his face, but his hands were full. His arms shook beneath the burden of the coffin. He could bench press a semi truck, but this? This was too much for him to bear. 

Rhodey kept glancing over to him, but Peter kept his gaze forward. Not wearing the mask was a mistake. The others should have stopped him. Hell, he should have stopped himself from doing something so stupid. But the cat was out of the bag now, and there was no putting it back. He would have to deal with the repercussions of his identity reveal at some point, but not today. No, today was about Tony. Today was about closure.

His personal problems would just have to wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is choppy but it'll have to do. Trust me it gets happier (eventually) (maybe)  
> This chapter title and the story title are both inspired by songs by the Oh Hellos.


	3. in that fog forever

Peter couldn't remember the last time he left the lab. He adjusted the circuitry on the robotic human hand that was propped up on a stand in front of him. It was half-finished, bare metal and wiring that poked out haphazardly. His vision blurred in and out of focus from lack of sleep, but he simply rubbed his eyes and pressed on. 

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing with that hand?”

Peter jumped up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. “Mr. Stark! Come check this out!”

He handed Tony a headset. Tony examined it from all angles, turning it gently in his hands. "What is this?"

"A neural interface! Put that on, and you can control the hand with your mind.”

Tony fastened the headset around his forehead. He stared at the hand for a minute. It didn’t move. Tony’s brow furrowed. “Is something supposed to be happening?”

Peter frowned. He checked the panel on the back of the headset and found the switch turned to the off position. Whoops. He switched it on quickly. What Tony didn’t know wouldn't hurt him.  “Try it again. Focus!”

“I am focusing,” Tony grumbled. He stared at the hand with newfound determination. Peter laughed at the vein that pulsed on the man’s forehead. 

The hand twitched to life. The fingers waved in a rhythmic pattern, although they were slow and somewhat clanky. 

“Holy shit, kid. It has a bit of a lag, but it does exactly what I tell it to.” The hand closed into a fist and opened again. Tony mimicked the motion with his own hand. “You make this all by yourself?”

“Yeah. Took me ages, though. Electrical engineering isn’t really my forté. I’m more of a physics and chemistry kind of guy.”

“Not your forté? Don't be modest. I know grown adults who have been working on this technology for years and are leagues behind you." Tony took the headset off and handed it back to Peter. The man's proud smile looked sincere. Pride bubbled in Peter's chest.  "Keep at it.” 

“Actually, I wondering if you could help me with it," Peter ventured. "There are some kinks in the circuitry that I just can’t figure out.”

Tony shook his head. “No, Pete. This is your baby. You don’t want my grimy hands all over it." Peter wondered if the man was still haunted by his years as the Merchant of Death, if that legacy tarnished every new and wonderful thing he tried to create. Or maybe Tony was just too busy to help with Peter's silly project. “I’ll tell you what, though. I know a guy who might be able to help you. He’s about your age, a real natural with engineering. Lives in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. Probably ran out of cows to tip a long time ago. Must be bored out of his damn mind.”

“Why do you know some random kid in Tennessee?”

“I broke into his house. It’s a whole thing.” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, how about I send him your schematics and see what he thinks?”

“Uh, sure. Can I invite Ned to the lab sometime too? He’s better than me with software.”

“Of course. You’re going to save a lot of people with this technology." 

Tony smiled at him, but it was different than before. Wrong. The longer Peter stared, the more distorted the smile became. It stretched and warped into a grimace, then to a scream. Peter staggered back as Tony reached for him. The skin on Tony's hand blackened and peeled off. His voice was raspy when he next spoke. Choked. 

“So why couldn't you save me?"

 

 

 

 

The dream plagued Peter's thoughts as he ate breakfast with May. He had barely spoken two words all morning, but May, bless her heart, had picked up the slack in the conversation. She rambled on about the antics of her coworkers and their dinner plans with Pepper. Peter nodded along, offering a hum of agreement every now and then to at least pretend he was paying attention.

The dream had started off with a happy memory. After showing Tony the interface, Peter was introduced to Harley, who actually did turn out to be a genius at electrical engineering. Ned joined the project, and so did a girl named Gwen who was recommended to them by Bruce. She was the niece of one his associates, and he thought she would be a good fit. Progress on the interface went relatively smoothly from then on, and within a few months they had working prototypes for several different custom-made prosthetic limbs.

It was Pepper who decided the four should officially be a Thing. She said it would be good for PR and even began interviewing for her own set of interns, including MJ. Projects were planned. A press conference was scheduled.

And then everything went to hell.

Peter pushed his eggs around on his plate. "I'm going to school today," he announced. 

"This is entirely up to you, and I don't want to pressure you either way," May began, doubtful. She sat her fork down and gave him her full attention. "But are you sure that you're ready?"

"I need to get back to normal. Or, whatever scraps of normal I can manage to scrounge up now that I've revealed my identity."

May nodded. "Let me call Happy to drive you."

"That's not really necess--"

"I don't want you to walking all the way over there by yourself.  The media is still flocking around you, those damn vultures. It would kill me if something happened to you."

Peter shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Before I forget, there was something in the mail for you." May gathered the mail from the counter and handed him a sealed envelope. "It's from MIT."

Peter opened it quickly, like ripping off a band aid. Each line that he read only added to his grief, and before he knew it he was crying.

"Hey, it's okay." May got up from her seat. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "There are other schools. Any college would be lucky to have--"

"I got in!" Peter gasped. "I got in." This was every student at Midtown's dream. So why did he feel so miserable? 

May pulled back, her hands on his shoulders. Peter was blinded by the force of her grin. "That's fantastic! I knew you could do it!"

He forced his lips to curve upward and hoped it didn't look as fake as it felt. 

 

 

 

Peter had only been back at school for ten minutes before it all went wrong.

His morning had been fine so far. Ned met him at the front steps with coffee. Peter sipped it while Ned ranted about a terrible movie adaptation. He lost himself in the normalcy of it and almost forgot the events of the last week. That was, until the students in the hall grew silent and anxious.

"Did you seriously cosplay as Spider-Man at Stark’s funeral?” 

Peter tensed as someone grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back against the lockers. His coffee hit the floor and splattered against his shoes. Peter glared up at Flash, who had his fist clenched around Peter's shirt collar.

“I knew you were a piece of shit, but that’s low even by your standards," Flash sneered.

“Get lost, Flash.” Ned tugged on Flash’s arm, but his efforts were in vain. The guy’s grip was like iron. 

A crowd was starting to gather around them. Peter was starting to wonder if there would ever be a day when people didn’t gather around to watch him be miserable. Perks of being famous, he guessed.

“I bet he’s lying about being the heir to SI, just like he’s lying about being Spider-Man.”

“I wasn’t cosplaying,” Peter muttered. 

“What was that? I can’t hear you when you mumble like a coward.”

Peter resisted the urge to spit in his face. He was now representing Stark Industries, whether he wanted to or not. What would Pepper do? 

“Poor little Parker. So desperate for attention that you make up stories to get people to like you. Tell me, did Stark ever give a shit about you, or were you just his little pet project? You were just a scrawny little orphan he took under his wing to make himself look good. He had to get rid of his asshole reputation somehow, and you were the most available option." Flash shook him roughly. Peter winced as his spine dug into the hinge of the locker. "Face it, the only people who care about you are those stupid enough to believe your lies!”

Peter had had enough. He grabbed Flash’s wrist and flipped around so that Flash was the one with his back to the lockers. Peter pressed his arm against Flash's throat, keeping him pinned. 

“Is this fun for you?” Peter spat. “Don’t you ever get tired of wearing people down?”

“Someone has to put you in your fucking place, Parker, so it might as well be me. Everyone is sick of hearing about Stark’s prodi—“

Flash was abruptly cut off when Peter shot a web over his mouth. “And I’m sick of hearing all of your negative bullshit.” Peter hated how satisfied he felt in that moment. Every time he had just sat back and taken the taunts, the shoves, the insults had built over the years, and he was finally getting his retribution.

“Peter—“ Ned grabbed his shoulder but Peter shrugged him off.

“You think you're so smart, Flash. You think you’re better than everyone else here. But listen to me closely." Peter was so angry he was shaking. It took all he had to keep from yelling. "You don’t know shit about me, and you don’t know shit about Mr. Stark. He wasn’t like that. He didn’t need publicity stunts to show he was a good man. He was a good man, by his own merit.”

The hallway was dead silent except for the pounding of his own heart against his chest. Flash’s face had gone pale. 

“Peter, we should go now. I’ll grab your stuff later."

Peter relaxed his grip. Flash slumped against the wall, still staring at him in what could only be described as fear. 

“Oh my god,” Peter said. He took a step back.  “I’m sorry, I—“

Ned grabbed his hand before he could finish the apology. Peter let himself be dragged down the hall, toward the exit. His spidey sense tingled as dozens of eyes bore into his back.

“By the way, those webs will dissolve in two hours!” Ned yelled. “Maybe we can all enjoy some peace and quiet until then!”

 

 

 

As the doors shut behind them, Peter released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They sat down on the steps until the anger and anxiety had worked itself out of his system. 

“How long do you think I have before that gets put online?” he asked.

“It already is.” 

It wasn’t Ned who answered, but MJ. Peter made room for her as she joined them on the steps. A YouTube video was already pulled up on her phone, and she handed it to Peter wordlessly. 

Ned snorted. "'Spider-Man pummels classmate in school-yard brawl?' That's a pretentiously long title."

Peter groaned. “Pepper is going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill you first. Do you realize how bad you made yourself look? How bad you made SI look? You represent all of us, Peter. I don’t want the Infinity program to get a bad reputation from the start.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Pepper’s not gonna shut the program down, is she?”

“We haven’t exactly talked about it.”

“The projects are ready to put into place. Your mechanical prosthetic prototypes work flawlessly. Our shelter is ready to open, once we get the all-clear from Pepper." Peter couldn't remember the last time he heard MJ talk so passionately about something. It suited her. "We’re doing good work, Pete, and I don’t want to stop now.”

“I’ll talk to her, but this isn’t exactly a priority right now.”

“Am I late to the intervention?”

Peter looked up at the boy jogging towards them. “Harley? You don’t go here.”

“Stunning observation. Really. The world marvels at your genius.” Harley sat down next to MJ. “I was here for the press conference. When that got cancelled, I stayed for the funeral.”

The mood dampened. Harley clapped his hands once, as if to expel the negative energy through sheer willpower and obnoxious noises. He turned to Peter. “Tell me you rescheduled the conference.”

“It’s only been a week!” Peter snapped. "Let Mr. Stark get cold in his grave at least before you start making plans without him!"

"This isn't about Tony. It's about the clients who were promised prosthetic limbs over a week ago. It's about the people out on the streets that need Pepper's crew's shelter." Harley's voice was so calm that somehow it made Peter even more angry. 

"Exactly," MJ agreed. “You fought to create the program, to help all those people. Now fight to keep it.”

Peter got to his feet. "Screw the program," he spat. He was being spiteful, and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to care.  He ignored his friends' protests as he ran down the steps and across the courtyard. He didn't remember to text Happy to come pick him up until he was far past school property. 

Peter ended up on a bench in plain view of the road as he waited for Happy. His phone was vibrating constantly with texts from Ned, MJ, and Harley. He turned it off and only felt mildly guilty about it.  

His spider sense tingled, a low hum that indicated he was being watched. Peter spun around but didn't notice anything suspicious. Nobody on the sidewalk seemed to have recognized him. A false alarm, maybe. 

A horn honked, and Peter turned his attention back to the road. Happy's car had pulled up to the curb. He slid into the backseat and slammed the door behind him. The car began moving almost immediately. Happy still had the partition up, and for that Peter was grateful. He wasn't in the mood to talk. 

He understood where they were coming from. He really did. They had promised prosthetics to several veterans and promised jobs to future shelter employees. People were counting on them for help. But Tony had been with the program from the start, and even though it was Peter's responsibility, his stomach churned at the thought of continuing without Tony. How could the others be so willing to move on? Especially Harley. He and Tony had always seemed super close. 

The car took a sudden turn. Peter stared out the window in confusion. He recognized this street, but only from above. He had swung though this area as Spider-Man, but had never visited it as Peter Parker.

"Hey, Happy?" he knocked on the partition. "I think you took a wrong turn."

"Don't worry, I know exactly where I'm going."

A shiver worked its way up Peter's spine. The voice was familiar, but it definitely did not belong to Happy. He pressed back against his seat as the partition slid down. A man smirked at him from the driver's seat, but there was no mirth behind the gesture. Only malice. Peter recognized him almost instantly. Tony had made sure he knew his face, so that if Peter ever met him he could run the other direction. 

"Secretary Ross?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long too update school has been kicking my butt  
> i swear there is a plot in here somewhere  
> as always, feel free to leave comments or criticism! i love to hear what yall have to say


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